


Restrain, Release

by Morgan Briarwood (morgan32)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-24
Updated: 2009-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:09:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan%20Briarwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uh...kinky porn. And Sam orders pizza.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restrain, Release

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Maryliz who bought me in the [Sweet Charity](http://www.sweet-charity.net/) Writers Guild Foundation Industry Support Fund auction. She asked me for a BDSM fic with Dean as the sub. I responded with a long shopping list of elements I could include in such a fic - I think I scared her with some of them! If you enjoy the result, thank _her_, because I wouldn't have written this story otherwise :-)

A cold breeze blew across Dean's skin, raising gooseflesh and making him shiver in his sleep. The shiver woke him. Groggily, he tried to rub his eyes and found his hand trapped. The cold swirled around him again and let Dean know he was naked. Adrenaline jerked him awake and he pulled at whatever held his hand. No, not his hand: his wrist. He was bound and naked. Something heavy covered most of his face, including his eyes. Thick, coarse cloth filled his mouth.

Panic filled him. A lifetime of training kicked in and he fought his instinct to struggle. Instead he lay still, though the muscles of his arms and shoulders knotted with tension.

"Howdy, Dean."

The whisper was so close to his ear that Dean felt the speaker's warm breath. _What the fuck?_

"I thought you were gonna sleep all day."

It was Sam. Some of Dean's panic receded. He started to ask what the hell was going on, but he couldn't speak past the gag. The question became a strangled grunt.

Sam's voice came again, further away this time, his tone even, almost casual. "Oh, yeah. I thought it would be best to start with a cloth gag. Can you breathe okay? Make a noise if you can't."

Dean shivered, and this time not because of the cold. He remained silent, answering Sam's question, but he had about a hundred questions of his own. Sam's casual tone unnerved him a little, as did the fact that he'd apparently slept through being stripped, bound and gagged. That just wasn't possible.

"Good boy," Sam said softly, in the same tone he would have used talking to a dog. "Now, listen carefully, Dean. There are three rules. One: you will obey every order I give you, at once, no arguments. That shouldn't be too difficult; I know how you love to take orders."

_Fuck you!_ Dean thought, but he made no sound. He could almost remember... They went to a club last night, one of those places with live music and... But the memory danced out of reach.

"Two," Sam went on relentlessly. "You may not talk without permission. Three: you may not _come_ without permission." Sam blew gently on Dean's chest, across his nipples; to Dean Sam's breath felt hotter than it should have. "Do you understand the rules, Dean? Make noise for yes."

Dean grunted past the cloth in his mouth.

"Good boy," Sam said again. Dean half-expected him to pat his head. "Do you remember your safe-word?"

For a moment, Dean had no idea what he meant, because he couldn't remember them planning _anything_ like this. Then the memory came back to him, a conversation they'd had weeks before. Dean had told Sam that fancy safe-words were dumb and you should just say _stop_. He grunted again.

"The safe-word is the only exception to rule two. I'm going to keep you gagged most of the time, so if you need to talk, hum a tune and I'll let you speak. But remember if you use the safe-word, this ends. No time-outs. Do you understand, Dean?"

Dean grunted a third _yes_. Oh, yes, he understood. Anticipation began to tighten his body and swell his exposed cock. He knew Sam would notice his reaction.

Sam chuckled, a low, evil sound. "That's my big brother. Always _so_ good," he said. It sounded for all the world as if Sam were talking to another person in the room, not just remarking for Dean's benefit. But Sam wouldn't do that to him, Dean was sure. He was just messing with Dean's head and it was a pretty weak attempt.

Sam touched the ropes around Dean's right wrist, checking the knots, and then moved around to Dean's left side. Dean's wrists were bound to something metal, spaced apart just enough to prevent him from picking at the knots. The metal bar was fixed to something else, probably the headboard. Dean lay on his back, with his hands above and behind his head. The position stretched his triceps and bent his elbows. It was uncomfortable but not painful...not yet. Sam ran his fingertips down the tense muscle toward Dean's armpit and Dean jerked as if electrocuted. The light touch became a firm stroking, soothing him, but it let him know that this position would be painful if he lay here for too long. The thought drew even more blood to his cock.

A floorboard creaked, over to his left. But that wasn't... Sam was on his right side, he was _touching_ him. Dean turned his head to the left, as if he could look for what made that sound, but he was blindfolded. Sam's fingers grasped his jaw and turned his head back.

"I'm going to take the gag out now, while I prepare a few things," Sam told him. "You can talk, but only to ask questions if you want."

Sam reached behind Dean's head and his touch was so very familiar that it alone reassured Dean. Dean felt him loosen the knot of the gag and very gently, his lifted the cloth away. He opened his mouth wide. He closed his mouth. He worked his jaw from side to side. He felt better.

"I gave you three rules," Sam reminded him, "so you can have three questions."

"Three questions. Is that like three wishes?" Dean quipped.

"Exactly like," Sam agreed. "And that was one. Next?"

_Shit._ Dean couldn't believe he'd fallen for that one. Well, he would be more careful next time. He thought about asking what was going on, but the answer seemed obvious. No, he had to be smart about this. He also had to think fast, before Sam decided he wasn't going to ask anything.

Dean could hear Sam moving around the room, and the sound distracted him. He tried to tune out the small rustlings, the sound of a zipper opening, and the gentle thumps of solid objects being placed on some nearby surface.

He remembered the club, all blue and red lights and music so loud the floor vibrated with the beat. There had been a girl - wasn't there always a girl? - a pretty brunette dressed like Barbie-does-bondage who seemed to have a thing for Sam until Dean joined them. Then she only had eyes for him. They'd left the club, the three of them together, he was sure. After that, things got a bit fuzzy.

There were flashes of things that just had to be his imagination. Sadie-or-Tracy laughing like a lunatic, flashing her tits to the whole of the bar while Dean... While Dean...did he really remember _singing karaoke?_ No freaking way. Unless...?

He blurted out the question without thinking. "Dude, did you fucking roofie me?"

Sam took in a sharp breath. "Of course I didn't!" he protested but there had been that little hesitation that made it sound like a lie. After a moment, Sam added, "Stacey, the girl we were with, put something in her own drink. I think she got you to share, but you didn't take much, dude."

It had the ring of truth, so Dean accepted the explanation. He had one question left. He wanted to ask about that floorboard creaking. Although he _knew_ Sam wouldn't do that to him, Dean had an uneasy feeling there was someone else in the room. Just as he drew breath to speak, however, Dean realised it was the last question he should ask. The bondage and blindfold were one thing: he and Sam _had_ talked about doing something like this. But Sammy would never have invited someone else into this without asking Dean first. Hell, Sam was so private it would never have occurred to him to bring another person into their kinky fun. So, if he trusted his brother, he would be wasting a question. And if there _was_ someone else in the room... The thought brought the memory of Jo tied to a post and Sam, black-eyed, standing over her with a knife. Dean shivered. Was it possible that Sam wasn't really Sam? _Shit. Don't think like that._

Sam's game was barely started and the headfuck was already freaking Dean out. God, he was good.

"Is that it?" Sam asked him.

Dean made his decision. He was only allowed to ask a question, but he could use that question to make a point. He turned his head toward where he thought Sam stood, even though he could see nothing. "Dude, do you know how cold it is in here?"

Sam laughed. "Don't worry. You won't be cold for long. Open your mouth."

Dean obeyed, expecting Sam to stuff his mouth full of cloth again.

"Wider," Sam ordered.

Dean opened his mouth as wide as he comfortably could. Sam pushed an object into Dean's mouth. It felt very large, hard but flexible. The thick and unmistakable scent of rubber filled Dean's nostrils. Instinctively, he fought against the gag, trying to dislodge it from between his teeth.

"Just relax." Sam's words were gentle, but he continued to push the rubber gag firmly into Dean's mouth. Dean could taste the rubber now, bitter on his tongue. Saliva filled his throat and Dean struggled to swallow. With his mouth forced open it wasn't easy. He thought Sam would relent, let him breathe, but he waited. Dean managed to swallow and took a huge, ragged breath. That made him realise the rubber object wasn't stopping him from breathing. Dean knew what it was. He traced the outline of the gag with his tongue and found it a perfect circle.

Holy crap. Dean had seen ring gags only in porno flicks. The gag was a rubber ring designed to keep his mouth open and accessible. He wouldn't be able to fight anything Sam wanted to shove down his throat. It made him wonder what Sam was planning to do, but he wasn't scared. Not of Sam. Not yet.

Sam fastened the gag at the back of Dean's neck. Between the rubber gag and the leather blindfold, most of Dean's face was covered. The stiff edges of the blindfold were beginning to chafe a little. Dean felt Sam stroke his hair and, a moment later, the bed under him moved as Sam shifted to straddle his thighs. The denim of Sam's pants was coarse against Dean's skin, but the cloth was warm from Sam's body. Sam knelt above Dean, his lower legs touching Dean's thighs. Dean could feel Sam's bare feet at his knees. He relaxed, pretty sure that he was going to enjoy what was coming next.

He heard the clink of metal an instant before his body jumped with the sudden shock of cold metal on his stomach. A sound of protest escaped him; he couldn't help it. Dean couldn't tell what the object was. Part of it felt like round, smooth metal but the thing had more parts. There was weight to it. As before, the gag kept him from asking.

It occurred to Dean that they usually _talked_ when they had sex. Not always meaningful talk, or dirty talk (though that was fun) but enough to encourage each other, to say what felt good. Sam had forbidden that communication, and then gagged Dean as if he knew Dean would never have been able to obey that order. It changed the experience completely. And it was weird not to have Sam talking to him.

Sam's large hand, slick with something liquid and warm, enclosed the head of Dean's cock. Dean jerked, and the metal thing, whatever it was, spilled off him to one side. He had begun to soften but Sam's touch reawakened his cock.

Sam's hand moved down Dean's shaft as it hardened, coating him with that slippery liquid. Warmth trickled down ahead of Sam's hand, ticklish trails between his legs, over his balls. Dean's skin felt warm everywhere Sam touched him, as if Sam's touch drew the blood to the surface of his skin, sensitising every nerve ending. Dean sighed, enjoying the touch. The scents of leather and rubber were joined by something new, something Dean couldn't identify. A pleasant, spicy scent like cologne. Sam reached the root of Dean's cock and slid his fingers lower, cupping Dean's balls in his palm, pressing the pad of one finger into Dean's opening. Dean tried to raise his hips to give Sam better access, but the restraints stopped him. Sam withdrew that teasing touch, sliding his hand up again, stroking Dean's cock from root to tip with exquisite care.

Sam's weight above him shifted as he reached for the metal which had slipped to Dean's side. Dean felt something like a delicate chain tickle across his belly and then Sam slipped a cool metal ring over Dean's cock. Dean was fully erect and it was a tight fit. It felt tight enough that, without the gag, Dean would have told Sam to stop. The lubricant could only have been oil, because Sam worked the cock ring over Dean's erection without hurting him at all, though it took a long time. Dean could imagine Sam's face as he worked: that familiar expression of concentration. And Dean felt every millimetre of it, the smooth metal slowly warmed by his blood as it went down, Sam's callused fingers working his dick, the throb of blood in his cock. He began to thrust into Sam's fingers in time to that pulse, his hips rocking, his breath quickening. It felt so fucking _good_...

"Remember the rules, Dean," Sam warned.

Oh, hell. He wasn't allowed to come. But how could he _not_ with Sam still touching him like that? The ring still had inches to go. Dean fought to keep his hips still. He strained against the leather holding his wrists, his hands desperately seeking something to hold on to. He tossed his head from side to side, barely aware he was doing it. He tried to clench his teeth but the gag got in the way. He was moaning, a continuous sound of pleasure/pain, fighting to control an impulse he _never_ controlled, determined he would not give in and come all over himself and Sam.

The ring reached the base of Dean's cock and Sam quit touching him just in time. Dean could still feel the weight of Sam on his legs but the respite gave Dean the space he needed to get his body under control. He felt...he felt utterly undone, and weirdly not frustrated at all. As the throbbing need to climax receded, Dean felt a little proud of himself, like he'd passed a test.

It occurred to Dean then that they were only just getting started, and he felt a frisson of fear. Was it possible for a man to be fucked to death? He had a feeling he was about to find out.

Sam's breathing sounded harsh in the sudden silence. "My god, Dean. Do you have any clue how delicious you are?"

_Delicious? What am I now, a twinkie?_

Sam's hand, slick with oil once more, drifted across Dean's chest. He spread his fingers wide, painting spirals of oil on Dean's skin. This time Dean was more aware of the scent and of his body heating where the oil touched. There was something in the oil that warmed the skin it touched. Sam dripped oil on Dean's belly and ran his fingers through it, rubbing the oil into Dean. Sam's fingers painted a circle around Dean's nipples, but didn't touch them. Instinctively Dean tensed, anticipating the touch, but it didn't come.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded.

"Good." Sam climbed off Dean and off the bed. For a moment, Dean didn't know where he was. He lay still, waiting. Cold water dripped onto his chest from somewhere, making him gasp. Then ice touched his nipple and Dean jerked away from the sudden chill. Sam laid the ice against his nipple again. After the initial shock, it felt amazing. The cold of ice against the warmth of the oil was just the right side of pain.

"Keep still!" Sam ordered, and Dean realised he hadn't been. The melting ice trickled rivulets of cold across Dean's pectoral muscle, down his side. He could feel every wet stripe, every bead of water. _Oh, god, Sam..._

Sam withdrew the ice and pinched Dean's nipple...or that's what Dean thought he'd done. But the sensation went from just the right side of pain to _Jesus, fuck that hurt!_ Painful pressure on his nipple that didn't let up. Dean squirmed.

Sam's voice came gentle and soothing. "Ssh, Dean. Relax into it. You can take it. For me." He laid the ice against Dean's other nipple.

_For Sam_. Dean concentrated on his breathing, deep, steady breaths. He felt his chest rise and fall. He was acutely aware of the clamp on his nipple, the skin tightening minutely with each breath. He felt something else, too, something attached to the clamp which slid across his skin. Where the fuck did Sam get nipple clamps? And Dean would bet that light slithering he could feel was a chain: a chain running from the nipple clamps to the cockring.

When Sam applied the second clamp, a sound of pain escaped Dean. He fought the pain, writhing on the bed but trying, so hard, to remain still. He tasted blood on his tongue, not real blood, but the way you do when pain is just that bad. Who the hell knew he was this sensitive? He didn't want Sam to see how much it hurt; if Sam knew he would end this, safe-word or no.

"Is it too much?" Sam asked, and Dean heard real anxiety in his brother's voice. "Tell me now if it is."

Sam's concern sounded real, and somehow that calmed Dean. _No, it's not too much._ Dean knew if he could relax into the pain it would...not fade, exactly, but become less important. He could do this. He could do it for Sammy. With a supreme effort, Dean kept his body still, his breathing even.

"Alright." Sam's relief was clear. He ran one hand down Dean's abs, arranging the chains, then stroked Dean's erection. He laughed. "Oh, yeah, you love it, don't you? I wonder what you'd like me to do next?" He cupped Dean's balls in his palm. The touch was warm and gentle but then he slowly began to squeeze. Not hard; he wasn't trying to hurt Dean. It was more like he wanted to remind Dean it _could_ hurt. Dean drew in a breath. Whatever Sam intended he _had_ achieved one thing: all Dean's attention was suddenly focussed on Sam's hand and his own nuts, instead of the pain. His cock throbbed and Sam laughed again, low and evil. He slapped Dean's bare thigh lightly. "Oh, yeah, you love it. Spread 'em, big brother. I want to see all of you."

The confident note of command was back in Sam's voice, sending a shiver of anticipation through Dean. He didn't think he would be able to move much, what with his ankles being bound, but Sam loosened something and Dean found the ropes had just enough slack for him to obey.

"More," said Sam curtly. "Bend your knees."

Dean bent his knees, drawing his legs upward as far as the restraints allowed and spreading his legs apart until he felt the strain in his muscles and tendons. His ass-cheeks parted, exposing all of him to Sam's gaze. His feet were flat on the bed and he curled his toes into the soft sheet beneath him. Lying in this position made Dean feel terribly vulnerable. He knew Sam could see all of him...and then some.

Sam pushed one oiled finger inside Dean's ass. It was just one finger and Dean could take it easily, but Sam pushed in fast, making Dean cry out again. Sam penetrated him further, relentless, until Dean could feel Sam's curved knuckles pressing into his buttocks. Sam remained still for a moment then began to withdraw his finger, exquisitely slow. He found that sweet spot inside, his finger sliding over it so very slowly, so Dean's moan became one of pleasure._Oh, god..._ Dean pushed back into Sam's hand, desperate for more. God, he was going to come. He _needed_ to come.

Sam slid two fingers into him, but not so deep this time. Sam added more oil, working Dean open but thrusting only shallowly. The loss of sensation made Dean curse silently. The gag was really irritating him now. Damn it, Dean wanted to talk! They always talked when they fucked! How could Sam stand this?

Sam continued to work Dean open, using three fingers and then four. He thrust his fingers shallowly into Dean. He went back for more lube, and continued to work.

For the first time, Dean felt real fear. It felt like Sam was working up to fisting him. Dean had had that done to him before, but not by Sam. Sam's hands were fucking huge. Dean was pretty sure he couldn't take that, not without real damage. But Dean was gagged. He couldn't say _wait_ or _stop_.

_If you're gagged or you can't talk for some other reason, hum a tune and I'll let you speak. But remember if you use the safe-word, this ends. No time-outs._

Dean was just about to hum a tune when Sam withdrew his fingers.

Sam had worked him open for so long that when he stopped it left Dean feeling empty, incomplete. He was ready, more than ready, to be fucked. He was almost ready for what he'd feared so much moments before. But what Sam pushed into his ass wasn't his cock or his fingers. It felt big enough to be a cock, but it was cool and smooth, harder than flesh. The object slid inside him easily, sliding through lube like a fish through water, but it didn't go in deeply. Oh, god, was it a plug? Dean could feel something between his ass-cheeks as if the butt plug was attached to something else.

The bed under him shifted as Sam moved. Dean wondered what was next. He heard Sam moving about the room, but Sam didn't speak at all. The silence stretched on...and on.

"Next time we're short of cash," Sam said suddenly, "I'm gonna sell this shot to _Playgirl_. You should see yourself, dude. Fucking beautiful."

Dean thought he probably looked ridiculous, trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey with a plug sticking out of his ass. If Sam was really taking photographs, Dean was going to kill him. Slowly.

"Shall I send this shot to Ash for you?" Sam suggested playfully. "It'll make a great valentine for him."

Sam was kidding. Dean was almost sure he was kidding. But he heard a familiar beep and realised Sam was using his - Dean's - cell phone. That beep meant Sam was scrolling through the stored numbers. What if Sam _wasn't_ joking? Dean searched his memory, wondering if Sam owed him payback for some forgotten prank. He heard his phone beep again. Panic filled him.

Dean tried to say, _No_, but the gag would not allow him to form words. What came out was an incoherent cry. Damn it! Dean pulled at the bonds at his wrists, trying to get free. He struggled, harder, with increasing force.

"Dean!" Sam stroked Dean's side gently. "Dean, settle down. It's okay." He reached behind Dean's thrashing head to unhook the gag. Dean understood what he was doing and stilled. Sam pulled the gag carefully out of Dean's mouth, freeing him to speak at last.

"Dude," Dean spluttered, "if you send that photo, I swear to god, I'll - "

Sam silenced him with a kiss. He swallowed Dean's angry words, pushing his tongue into Dean's mouth, using it to tease, to explore every part of Dean's mouth. Dean's jaw ached from the gag but he kissed Sam back. His body relaxed and he felt like an idiot for panicking like that. Would it really matter that much if Sam _did_ pull a stunt like that?

"Dean," Sam whispered against his lips.

"Sammy," Dean murmured back.

"You broke the rules," Sam said quietly. It was half a warning, half a request.

"I guess I did," Dean agreed. He could have ended it there, but he wouldn't bail on Sam now.

"I was going to fuck your mouth," Sam announced, "but I think we should try a different gag."

_You can fuck my mouth_, Dean thought, but since Sam reminded him of the rules he did not speak. He opened his mouth obediently when Sam pressed a ball to his lips. The ball gag was more comfortable, at least, but Dean would have preferred the other. He _wanted_ Sam to fuck his mouth through the ring gag. He wanted to feel Sam shove his cock down his throat, to feel Sam fill him, even force him. Yeah, it was twisted, but then, no more twisted than fucking his brother in the first place.

Sam was silent, his fingers drawing idle patterns on Dean's skin. At first, Dean thought the light touch was supposed to be relaxing, but when it went on, the silence becoming uncomfortable, he wondered if it was Sam's way of killing time while he thought something over. The touch felt good at first, but Dean wanted more than this barely-there caress.

Dean began to relax into it, since he had no other option. A sharp knock on the door made him jump. Sam patted Dean's arm and went to the door. Dean tensed, acutely aware that, even if no one in this town knew they were brothers, this scene wouldn't make them any friends at all. He heard voices, Sam and another male voice, too quiet for him to hear the words. He heard Sam stride across the room, leaving the door open, and then return. He talked some more, then closed the door.

Dean smelled food.

_You freak! Can I smell **pizza**?_

A moment later his question was answered: Sam laid a pizza box on the bed beside Dean, one cardboard corner poking his side. _Freak_, he accused again, in his head.

"That was quicker than I thought," Sam commented, and there was laughter in his voice. "You'll be okay for a while, won't you?" he asked conversationally, like he was asking Dean to pass the ketchup. "I'll save you a slice." He opened the box so the lid lay against Dean's stomach. The smell filled the air, making Dean's stomach grumble.

_You bitch!_ Sam planned this. He was going to leave Dean here, tied up, while he had lunch. Was it lunchtime? What-fucking-ever. Dean hadn't been aware of hunger until the smell of pizza filled the room. Suddenly he was starving. He couldn't protest, but he _could_ start planning payback.

Sam was _torturing_ him. Dean heard Sam sit at the table. A moment later Sam turned on his laptop. Dean heard the jingle of the computer booting up while Sam ate. What the hell was Sammy doing?

Eventually, Sam rose from the table. "Are you hungry, baby?"

Damn it, Dean _was_ hungry. But he knew that if he admitted to it, Sam would hand feed him that pizza. No _way_ was he going to let Sam feed him. Stubbornly, he shook his head: no.

"You sure?" Sam pressed knowingly. When Dean refused to change his mind he removed the box. Dean heard it thud to the floor, as if Sam tossed it carelessly away.

"Okay. Then, where were we?" Sam's voice had become silky smooth, like good whiskey. "Oh, yes," he said, as if he'd only just remembered. "You broke the rules. That means you have to be punished."

Dean's insides were melting. God, Sam's words shouldn't turn him on, but they did. Oh, fuck, yeah. Dean's cock, which had begun to soften while he waited for Sam, was suddenly standing to attention again.

"I'm going to untie you," Sam announced, commanding. "I want you on your knees, hands on the headboard. Don't touch the blindfold."

Dean nodded, acknowledging the order.

Sam loosed his ankles first, then bent over to free Dean's hands from the spreader bar. Dean lowered his arms gratefully, and felt his overstretched muscles relax. Dean started to roll over obediently. But as he moved, the thin chains between the nipple clamps and cock ring tickled his skin. The pain in his nipples had faded to a throbbing ache but when he moved he became aware of them in a whole new way. When those clamps came off, it was going to _hurt_. Anticipation sent a thrill through him, bowing his spine as he raised himself to all fours, assuming the position Sam demanded. He groped blindly for the headboard and, when he had it, gripped the smooth wood hard.

Sam unhooked the gag, surprising him. "These are useful," Sam commented, "and you really look good in bondage, Dean, but you don't really need it, do you? You won't talk without permission again."

Honestly, Dean wasn't certain he could control his smart mouth. He remained silent, though, because Sam hadn't given him permission to answer the question.

Sam ran one finger down the length of Dean's spine, making him shiver. "Before I punish you for breaking the rules, I want to make sure you remember them. Tell me the rules, Dean." He patted Dean's bare ass.

Dean tried hard to make his voice submissive. "Obey all your orders," he said. "Don't talk without permission. Don't come without permission."

"Very good." Sam stroked Dean's back lightly. "Move your knees wider apart," he commanded.

Dean moved his knees. The movement made the butt plug move inside him. It felt terribly big.

"I'm going to spank you," Sam informed him. "And when your ass is all red and warm, I'm going to fuck you. Hard. Is that okay with you, Dean? You can answer."

Dean's dick was throbbing. "Yes," he whispered.

"I can't hear you."

Dean swallowed. "Yes."

"You want me to spank you," Sam pressed.

Dean knew what Sam wanted. This game, at least, they'd played before. "Yes," he answered, "I want you to spank me." Saying the words aloud set a seal on it. It bound them together in some way Dean didn't really understand, but knew he needed.

"You want me to fuck you," Sam said.

Dean grinned. "I _always_ want you to fuck me."

"And you'll remember the rules?"

Dean was about to repeat that, too, when he realised what Sam meant. _Oh, shit_. Dean could take a spanking. Hell, he'd probably enjoy it. He could take the pain and keep his mouth shut, though it wouldn't be easy. But Sam was going to fuck him. Sam was going to fuck him while Dean was forbidden to talk...or to come. He was never going to make it.

Dean's voice was a little shaky when he answered, "Yes, I'll remember the rules."

"You're mine." Sam's voice deepened on the words.

"Yes, Sam. I'm yours," Dean agreed. The words filled Dean with that same, odd joy he always felt when he said them. It meant something. He could give his little brother no end of shit, but when they did this, Sam _owned_ him. He wanted Sam to own him.

There was music, suddenly, quiet at first, getting louder until Dean recognised the tune. Was that what Sam did with the computer? He was downloading music? At least he'd chosen a decent soundtrack for this. It was Metallica: _St. Anger_. It was unlike Sammy to show such good taste.

Sam let him listen to the music for about half a minute, then turned the volume down a little.

"Twelve, I think," Sam mused.

Dean felt his body tighten. Punishment.

"Yes, twelve," Sam announced decisively. Count them for me, Dean. Out loud. Don't lose count or we'll start again from one."

Dean gripped the headboard, bracing himself for pain. Behind him, the Metallica track changed to _Dirty Window_.

_Smack!_

Sam walloped Dean's left buttock. Dean felt the muscle jump. His skin stung and he could feel the exact shape where Sam's open hand slapped him. He knew there was a perfect imprint of Sam's hand on his skin. He braced for the next, but it didn't come.

Then he remembered that Sam told him to count.

"One," he said.

_Smack!_ The next was on Dean's right buttock, leaving a matching handprint and the beginning of a burning pain. Sam had a heavy hand and he wasn't holding back.

"Two," Dean said through gritted teeth.

Sam was merciless. Dean's ass was firm, but Sam knew just where to aim so the flesh lifted and fell with each blow. He paused between each slap, making each one a separate event, so Dean was acutely aware of every sensation and sound. By the time he reached six, Dean's ass was burning. Sweat pooled in the hollow of his back. When the seventh blow landed, Dean moaned involuntarily. Sam kept going. Eight. Nine.

"Ten," Dean gasped out, and he felt his tears soaking into the leather blindfold.

But he didn't say _stop_.

_Smack!_

The sound of the slap seemed to echo off the walls. Dean felt his flesh compress with the force of the blow, then the painful release. "Eleven," he moaned.

_Smack!_

Dean yelled, his hands convulsing on the headboard. "Twelve," he whispered into the sudden silence. His ass was on fire. His pulse throbbed in his throat and in his cock. The blindfold was wet.

Sam's hand stroked Dean's boiling buttocks, and that hand was cool, almost cold. Sam's skin should have been as hot as Dean's from the spanking. He must have had a cold pack or something. Ice! He'd used ice earlier. _Damn, Sammy, you think of everything, don't ya?_ Sam's touch helped to sooth the pain...but not nearly enough.

Dean felt the bed springs compress as Sam climbed between his legs. Sam was nude now, or at least, his legs touching Dean's were bare. Dean didn't recall hearing him undress. It was...

But the oddity was wiped from his mind when Sam reached under him, stroking Dean's cock with one hand while the other slowly withdrew the butt plug from Dean's ass.

_Oh god, oh god, oh Jesus!_ Dean bit down on his lower lip, fighting to keep the words inside. The butt plug had warmed within his body and sliding out of him it felt _huge_. Sam angled the plug so it rubbed over that place inside him, driving Dean crazy with pleasure and the need to give voice to his desire. It could not have felt nearly so amazing without the pain. It was that delicious contrast which drove him out of his mind: his flaming buttocks, Sam's hand warm around his throbbing cock, the ache of his nipples, Sam's thumb teasing the head of his cock, and the slow, tortuous slide of the butt plug over his prostate.

When it finally slipped out of his body, Dean felt unbearably empty. His lip hurt and he tasted his own blood, he'd been trying so hard to remain silent. Inside his head, Dean was screaming _Fuck me, oh god, please, fuck me, fuck me now, fuck me!_

Sam grasped Dean's hips and with no attempt at gentleness, he rammed his cock into Dean's ass. The force of it thrust Dean forward and he had to let go of the headboard and brace his hands on the wall instead. Sam promised to fuck Dean_hard_ and he was as good as his word, pulling out and shoving himself deep again, hard and fast. But when Dean moved his hands to the wall, he had changed position enough to angle Sam's cock in him so that every thrust struck Dean's prostate. He screamed with the impossible pleasure of it, even as he realised that if this went on too long, it was going to fucking hurt. He scrabbled at the wall, desperate for something to hold, anything, something for another second of control.

He was going to come.

God, he was going to fucking _explode!_

"Dean!" Sam groaned. "Dean!"

_Oh god, Sam, please, I gotta, I can't, need to, got to come, got to._

Sam's body curled over Dean's body, touching every part of his back. He reached around to Dean's chest and gathered the chains into his hand. Without any warning, he pulled sharply, yanking the nipple clamps off Dean's nipples.

Blood rushed into his suddenly free nipples. Dean felt it like fire, an intense spiked pleasure that tore a cry from his lips. He was delirious with the sensory assault, his fingers digging into the wall, his body almost out of his control.

And Sam, thrusting hard and ever deeper inside Dean, leaned close and growled into Dean's ear: "Now, baby. Come for me now!"

Stars danced in Dean's vision as his cock pulsed and he howled, spilling himself over the sheets in long, hot gushes of release. He felt Sam thrust one last time as he, too, climaxed with a shout, clutching Dean close to him.

Dean heard his own breath, loud panting in the aftermath. The room smelled of leather and sex. He could still hear Metallica, but the song meant nothing to him.

Suddenly, Dean's throat constricted and he choked. His stomach clenched. Emotion overwhelmed him. Dean's breath rushed out in a sob. It was too much, too intense. There were no words for this feeling, no sense or logic to it. The high of the sex had been so very high; the comedown was devastating. Dean's knees buckled and he lost his grip on the wall as he collapsed bonelessly onto the bed beneath Sam. His body shook with the effort to keep from screaming.

Dean's chest hurt. Not the superficial hurt of his bruised nipples. No, this was a deeper pain, his heart cracking open inside him. He couldn't breathe.

Sam lifted Dean roughly, dragging him upright. He laid one large hand in the small of Dean's back and pushed, forcing Dean to arch his back and neck. It freed the constriction in his throat and Dean sucked in air at last.

"Dean! Dean, it's okay. Just breathe." Sam wrapped his arms, his whole body around Dean. He rested his chin on Dean's shoulder so his hair tickled Dean's cheek. Sam felt so warm, so strong. Dean didn't fight the embrace. His chest still felt tight, though he was breathing now. What was _wrong_ with him?

Sam simply held him, silent, waiting for Dean.

Finally, Dean found his voice and his rationality. He gasped out one word: "Stop!" He felt like an idiot for not saying it much sooner.

Sam's fingers loosed the blindfold and he lifted it carefully away from Dean's eyes. Dean kept his eyes tightly closed, but he felt Sam move around to face him, and Sam's fingertips on his cheek, gathering up the tears Dean somehow couldn't stop. Then Sam kissed him on his lips. There was strength in that kiss, and power, but not force. He kissed Dean, and all of the things they never said aloud were in that kiss. Love and memory and need and desire and bitter regret.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered.

The apology was unexpected. Dean pulled away, frowning. He opened his eyes for the first time. "What? You - you didn't hurt me, Sammy."

Sam's serious eyes filled Dean's vision. "Dude, you scared the crap out of me."

"Not your fault," Dean told him. "It was...I don't know what happened." Now he was thinking a little more clearly, Dean began to feel embarrassed about his breakdown.

Sam kissed him. "I know what happened." He stroked Dean's cheek gently. "I...I stopped you from talking because you always use that as a defence. Your smart mouth is like a wall between us. I thought if I took that away from you, the experience would be more..." Sam shrugged helplessly. "Just more."

"Intense." Dean supplied the word wryly. "Jesus, it was."

Sam drew away from him, bowing his head. "But I was the one in control. I should have been watching more closely. Stopped it sooner."

Dean covered Sam's lips with one hand, silencing him. "Sam, it was an incredible fuck. Don't spoil it."

Sam smiled. It was just a little smile, but it was enough. "Alright," he agreed.

Dean drew in a deep breath and turned away from his brother. He stayed there for a moment, breathing, rebuilding himself.

"Was it..." Sam began tentatively, "was it what you wanted?"

"And then some," Dean admitted. Then he grinned. "Dude, I can't believe you ordered pizza! That's really not fair!"

Sam laughed. "I saved you a slice."

"Only one? You wait, Sammy. When it's my turn to top, I'm so gonna pay you back for that!"

Sam opened his mouth to retort, but then closed it again. He met Dean's eyes with a look suddenly dark, anticipatory. "Promise?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. I promise."


End file.
